


Thank God That You Found Me

by halfpastmonsoon



Category: Catch-22 - Joseph Heller
Genre: Blow Jobs, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Psychological Trauma, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 20:44:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19217191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfpastmonsoon/pseuds/halfpastmonsoon
Summary: Yossarian made it to Sweden, where he found Orr and made a few discoveries about himself.





	Thank God That You Found Me

Rough hands, worn from work, ran down his sides and back up again in a soothing motion as he wept spasmodically in his sleep. 

This was far from the first time it happened since he deserted and made it there months ago. He regularly woke up in the middle of the night, sometimes multiple times, and he could always count on Orr to immediately wake up as well and comfort him until he stopped crying or fell back asleep. 

They were doomed to be roommates, Yossarian thought, looking back at the time he spent as Orr's tentmate, which felt like horribly distant past, comparable to a previous life, even though, as he had to keep reminding himself, it hadn't been that long at all. 

It was incredibly lucky that he managed to run into Orr so quickly, all things considered, since he deserted on a whim with only the vaguest hope of finding Sweden without being caught and brought back to Pianosa, and finding Orr once he landed there safely, since he had no doubts that Orr was waiting there for him. 

And he was indeed, found by Yossarian with ease despite no concrete directions or ideas. He just was where Yossarian expected to find him, as if he was waiting there, knowing Yossarian would arrive on that day. Maybe he did. As far as he knew, Orr always knew everything. 

Once he saw him, he had to fight the urge to greet him in the way his heart desired so dearly after being apart for so long, which was to run up to Orr, pick him up and embrace him like he'd wanted to for so long. He wanted to say so many things, ask so many questions, and yet he stood there mutely, staring at the grinning pygmy standing in front of him casually as if they'd been living together for years. 

'You made it,' Orr remarked. 

'I did,' Yossarian agreed, choking back tears. 

'You should have flown with me,' Orr informed in a wounded voice. 'I told you I would take care of you.'

'I know,' Yossarian whispered, falling to his knees. 'I should have said yes.'

'You should have. But,' Orr said benevolently, picking him off the ground, 'you made it.'

'Are you still going to take care of me?' Yossarian asked before he could bite his tongue. He never intended to sound so vulnerable. But, he realised, Orr knew anyway. 

'I will. But first,' he added, giggling maniacally, 'let me tell you about horse chestnuts and the girl who hit me over the head.'

'I already know all about that,' Yossarian informed firmly. 'You don't need to tell me.'

'You don't know anything,' Orr assured, leading him inside. Yossarian shook his head, trying not to laugh. 

And then he got introduced to Orr's living space, which was very similar to the wild, chaotic tent full of commodities and tiny parts that they shared back on Pianosa. Yossarian realised, with full clarity, that while the stove Orr built for him back there was supposed to keep him warm and comfortable after Orr left for Sweden, the commodities that he was preparing meticulously for the previous weeks were probably made with him in mind, too, for when he would make it safely, which Or believed he would. It was touching in a way that felt like a hand was wrapping around Yossarian's neck, choking him to the point of tears. 

He didn't remember what home felt like, the home he shared with his family at least, but he did remember that the tent he shared with the odd, bulgy-eyed man felt as safe as it could in the middle of war, and he firmly believed that there was no space safer than this small, crowded apartment Orr had prepared for him. 

'I'm cold,' Yossarian whined in his sleep as Orr quietly stroked his shoulder comfortingly in a futile attempt to soothe him. 

It happened every other night, and Orr didn't seem to mind at all. He would always wake up just a moment before Yossarian would have an attack, and yet in the mornings he never grumbled or seemed exhausted at all, waking up early to prepare breakfast and the best damn coffee Yossarian had ever tasted. 

'You knew I was going to find you?' 

'I hoped so,' Orr answered, busying himself with a pan of scrambled eggs. 

'What would you have done if I never found you? If I never even heard that you made it here? Or if I heard but never followed you?' Yossarian continued asking with passionate insistence. 

'What does it matter, if you are here?' Orr asked in response, and he was right. No other scenario mattered, because thanks to some miracle or other, they did find each other, and they were living together in their odd domestic arrangement surrounded by many inventions Yossarian struggled to understand the purpose of and never dared ask about. 

Neither of them left the apartment much, in silent agreement that there was no safer or more enticing place for them to be. The only exception was shopping for groceries, which was a sad necessity of life, and was mostly done by Orr while Yossarian took power naps to make up for the night terrors that haunted him regularly. 

Most of the time they avoided directly talking about those that died, went missing, or were left behind on Pianosa when Yossarian decided to desert, but every now and then he would mention someone while Orr was preparing food or tinkering with something, since having his back turned to him made it easier to talk about something so painful and unnecessary. Sometimes he wondered if more of his friends who were missing made it to safety without anyone hearing about it. Perhaps Clevinger found his new home in the cloud, for example. 

'Do you still want to have kids?' Orr asked suddenly, looking right into Yossarian's face. 

'Maybe. I don't know. Not now,' he said tiredly, avoiding eye contact. 

'I thought your plan for Sweden was making love to beautiful girls and having kids with them,' Orr pushed once again.

'I'm working on it.'

'You haven't gone outside in weeks,' Orr pointed out stubbornly. 'You haven't seen a girl since you got here, have you?' 

'What are you getting at?' Yossarian asked impatiently. 'You haven't touched a girl since you arrived, either, I bet. What does it matter?'

'Tee-hee-hee.' The familiar snicker sent a shiver down Yossarian's spine. 'Maybe, maybe not, but I never planned to. You did. I thought you're always thinking about sex.'

Yossarian's face flushed red as he tried to not look into Orr's bulgy, attractive, freckled, ugly face. 'I am. I just don't think I could go looking for girls now. Maybe later, but I can't now. I can't.'

'So you don't wanna do it?' Orr persisted, inching closer towards him. 

Before Yossarian could answer, his body did, by bulging out exactly where he hoped it wouldn't, and where was now looking with a gleeful giggle. 

'Is it because of me?' he asked innocently, tilting his curly head. 'You can tell me.'

'It might just be,' Yossarian said vaguely. Truthfully, since he escaped from Pianosa, running for his life, the fantasy that he had initially had about Sweden escaped his mind completely, replaced by the fantasy of doing it with Orr in the privacy of a space that nobody could suddenly enter. 'It is,' he admitted finally, avoiding Orr's knowing stare. 

'Do you want me to do something about it?' he asked with casual cheerfulness as if it was a completely mundane thing to ask of him. 'I can. Just say the word.' His hand hung over his crotch without touching it.

Yossarian swallowed, closing his tired eyes. Perhaps that was what he needed. Perhaps it really was more mundane than he thought. After all, he could make love to multiple girls out of nothing but a physical need, which was much less than what he felt for Orr, despite struggling to say it out loud or even articulate it in his head. 

'Please,' he whispered weakly, spreading his legs. 

Orr was more than eager to help him, getting on his knees and enthusiastically unbuttoning his pants to reveal Yossarian's erect shame that was ready for his intervention. 

Yossarian tried to breathe evenly as Orr took care of him, just like he had promised so long ago. The warm, comforting touch of his lips and fingers felt heavenly and Yossarian wished that he had asked for this favour weeks and weeks ago, the day he arrived. He wished that instead of having empty awkward conversation that did them no good, he had just started undressing Orr, who, he was sure, wouldn't mind and instead would embrace him with all he had, more easily than any woman ever allowed Yossarian in. 

Once he finished, quietly and with no fanfare, and Orr got up from his knees wiping his mouth happily, Yossarian started to feel guilty and asked if there was anything he could do for him. 

'Don't worry about that,' Orr hand waved his concern away with a small giggle. 'I'm fine. It's you who needed help.'

'I could have just done it myself,' Yossarian pointed out with a small laugh. 

'It wouldn't have been as fun, would it?' Orr remarked with a grin. 

From then on, he would sometimes help Yossarian. He seemingly never minded taking care of him whenever he needed it - which was often, but he would sometimes avoid telling him about it to avoid the guilt of feeling like he was using him. He wanted to pay him back, but Orr refused to entertain that thought, instead patiently and tirelessly working for Yossarian's sake. 

'Do you ever want to get married?' 

'I did once,' Yossarian mused, remembering Luciana. 'I don't think I'm cut out for it.'

'Probably not. Unless you got married to me,' Orr mused, giggling at his embarrassed face. 

'I don't think I'd need to, even if I could. We're as good as married anyway. If you're alright with me screwing girls, too,' he joked with forced laughter. 

'You can screw whatever you want,' Orr assured nonchalantly. 'I'm just helping while there's nobody else.'

'Are you really fine with that?' Yossarian asked sheepishly. 'I feel like you get nothing out of it.'

'I like having you around,' Orr insisted, looking away. 'And I like taking care of you. I wouldn't otherwise.'

'What if I want to take care of you?' Yossarian asked emotionally, leaning forward. 'What about that?' 

'Do you?' Orr asked, looking him in the eyes. 

'I do,' Yossarian confessed, pulling him closer. 'I came all the way over here not just to escape that shitty war, but for you. I couldn't stand being without you, but I couldn't do anything about it when I thought you were dead. Once I found out you weren't, I understood everything and followed you. Because I wanted to screw you.'

Orr's interestingly ugly freckled face was blushing in a way he couldn't hide behind his goofy, toothy grin. He wasn't saying anything but his brown, bulging eyes were looking right into Yossarian's with indescribable joy and relief. 

'I think I love you,' Yossarian added finally in a voice swelling with emotion. 

Orr laughed, but it was different from his usual laugh, meant to conceal any emotions he might have had under the mask of mindless glee. It was a genuine, somewhat vulnerable laugh, filling Yossarian's heart with so much joy that he felt like it was going to burst. 

'Now,' he said, still laughing, 'you can screw me.'

And so he did, in as many ways as he could before they both ran out of breath and fell limp onto the bed. He could hardly remember what they actually managed to do before then, he just remembered Orr sitting in his lap, clinging onto his shoulders and laughing shyly against his neck. He remembered Orr leaning against the wall and smiling back at him as he moved rhythmically. He also remembered the oddly exciting act of unbuttoning Orr's pants before any of that happened, and shoving his face between his narrow, soft thighs. There was more that they had none, he was sure, but the ecstasy of it didn't let him remember every detail, every moan, every sensation. 

He wasn't sure if it was connected in any way, but the night terrors decided to give him a break that night as he lay peacefully with Orr's tiny body curled up against his as if seeking shelter in his arms, which he was happy to provide. 

Both of them chanted the same phrase in their heads that surely kept all kinds of demons away. 

_Thank god that you found me._

**Author's Note:**

> Closing Time never happened.
> 
> Also listen to Origin of Love by MIKA.


End file.
